Chapter 849: Hidden Talent Revealed!
Arguments erupted, voices were raised, and for a moment, it looked like the mansion would descend into chaos. Everyone wanted to go with him.
But there was only one position available.
So Cassius had decided to settle the matter with a raffle.
Everyone wrote their names on pieces of paper and dropped them into a box. Julie, Aisha, and Skadi had been excluded from the drawing, much to their disappointment.
They already knew Ragnora, and their presence would have immediately blown Cassius’s cover. Besides, they had their own duties to attend to.
When Cassius finally drew a name from the box, it was Isabelle.
She had been pleasantly surprised. With so many women in the household, she had never expected to win. But somehow, fate had chosen her.
And to everyone’s credit, no one in the household felt jealous. Instead, they simply told her to take care of Cassius and not let him do anything stupid.
"He can easily mess this up." Nala had said with a pointed look.
"He’s going to get himself into trouble." Vivi had agreed.
"Make sure he doesn’t get hurt, dear" Maria had added cheerfully.
The women understood each other. They shared one man, but they didn’t feel the need to compete for his attention.
They had each other for company, and that was enough.
In fact, they had already started planning their girl nights together while Cassius was away.
They were discussing things like wine, games, and gossip.
Cassius had honestly felt a little disappointed—he had thought they would at least mourn his departure.
But instead, they were already making plans that sounded incredibly fun.
And he felt like he was the one being left out.
But he pushed those thoughts aside. He was going on a journey with Isabelle, and that was what mattered.
Isabelle on the other hand was radiant with quiet joy.
The last time she had been truly alone with Cassius like this, just the two of them on a journey together, had been when they’d first met.
That encounter had been complicated by the unfortunate misunderstanding involving poison and near-death experiences.
After that, woman after woman had entered his life, each one wonderful in her own way.
Isabelle cherished the company of the other women—genuinely, wholeheartedly.
But she also treasured these moments alone with her young master.
In her heart, she had begun to think of this journey not as a mission, but as their honeymoon. Cassius seemed to share the sentiment; he had stopped at several scenic overlooks along the way, pointing out beautiful villages and spending unhurried time simply enjoying her presence.
And now, they were painting each other.
Both of them had taken the activity with surprising seriousness.
Isabelle especially had been working with intense focus, her brush dancing across the canvas as she strove to capture Cassius’s likeness with perfect fidelity.
Finally, she set down her brush with a satisfied nod.
"I’m done, Young Master."
Cassius glanced up from his own canvas, a small smile playing at his lips.
"I believe I’m finished as well." He studied his work with undisguised pride. "I’m actually rather proud of this one. I feel like I could hang it on the bedroom wall and admire it every single day."
Isabelle’s curiosity sparked. Had he painted her so beautifully? She desperately wanted to see how her young master viewed her through his artistic eye!
But Cassius seemed hesitant.
"I’m kind of shy to show mine first." He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I want to see how you look at me through your eyes."
He paused, then added nervously, "I hope you haven’t made me look too ugly."
"Of course not, Young Master!" Isabelle’s response came immediately, almost indignantly, as if the very suggestion was an insult she could not tolerate.
Her expression softened into the fondest smile as she said,
"I painted exactly how I see you. Nothing more, nothing less. I didn’t make any embellishments at all."
She looked down at her painting with quiet reverence.
"I simply drew what my eyes behold every time I look at you."
Cassius’s anticipation grew unbearable. "Then show me. Show me how you see me!"
Isabelle rose from her stool, carefully lifting the canvas without revealing its surface. She walked toward him slowly, the painting pressed against her chest.
"Ready, Young Master?"
He nodded, leaning forward with barely contained excitement.
She turned the canvas around.
The moment Cassius saw it, he was absolutely dumbfounded.
His mouth opened, then closed. His eyes widened, then narrowed, then widened again. He blinked several times, as if trying to process what he was seeing.
Honestly, he had never really seen Isabelle paint before. He didn’t know about her skills at all.
So he had prepared himself mentally—even if the painting was terrible, he would praise her to the heavens. He would find something nice to say, no matter what.
But he realized, almost immediately, that there was absolutely no need to lie.
Isabelle was not merely good at painting. She was a master!
The style was hyper-realistic with just the faintest touch of fantasy, the kind of work one would expect to find hanging in the grandest halls of the imperial palace itself.
The technical precision alone was staggering—every brushstroke deliberate, every color perfectly chosen, every shadow falling exactly where it should.
But what truly stole his breath was the portrait itself.
It was him—undeniably him. The white hair, the blue eyes, the small, knowing smile he always seemed to wear.
And yet...
And yet, the man in this painting did not look like Cassius. Not quite. The features were correct, but the essence was something else entirely.
Something transcendent.
The jawline was too sharp, too perfect.
The skin possessed an almost translucent quality, as if lit from within by some gentle inner radiance.
The white hair flowed in an invisible wind, each strand catching light like spun silver.
The blue eyes held depths that seemed to contain entire galaxies.
He looked like a god who had descended to walk among mortals.
"Isabelle." He finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "What...What is this?"
Her expression immediately crumpled with worry.
"Do you not like it, Young Master? I truly tried my best, but I still feel as if I couldn’t quite capture your essence—" She bowed her head. "I apologize deeply—"
"Stop." Cassius raised a hand, cutting her off. "What are you talking about?! How can you possibly call this lacking in essence?!"
He let out a helpless laugh, gesturing at the painting with something approaching disbelief.
"This has too much essence, Isabelle. It’s overflowing with artistic talent!"
Isabelle blinked.
"And why exactly am I so handsome in this picture?"
Cassius continued, a hint of playful accusation in his voice.
"It’s so good that you’re making me have an inferiority complex towards my own appearance."
He squinted at the canvas. "I’d almost accuse you of painting some other man who merely resembles me—someone far better looking."
Isabelle’s frown was immediate and fierce.
"As if I would ever do such a thing, Young Master!"
Her voice carried genuine offense, as if he had suggested something morally reprehensible.
"Young Master is the only one for me. Even in the next life, and the life after that, I will only want Young Master!"
Her declaration was so vehement, so utterly sincere, that Cassius felt a warmth spread through his chest.
If anyone in the household could match Lucius in devotion, it was Isabelle.
"I was only joking." He said gently. Her expression softened as she realized this, her ruffled feathers smoothing back down.
"Do you really like it, Young Master? Did I do a good job?"
"You did more than a good job!" Cassius reached out and took the painting from her hands, holding it up to the light with reverent care.
"You did such an incredible job that I could build an entire museum just to display this single piece! And I guarantee you, Isabelle—people would travel from every corner of the continent just to see it."
Pride bloomed across Isabelle’s features, pink and radiant. She clasped her hands together, clearly fighting the urge to bounce on her heels.
"When did you learn to paint like this?" Cassius asked, genuine curiosity coloring his voice. "I had no idea you possessed such talent."
"It’s nothing so remarkable, Young Master." Isabelle’s answer came with characteristic modesty. "When I was a child, I had a language tutor who also happened to be a brilliant artist."
"During our lessons, he would draw landscapes on the blackboard to illustrate the stories we were reading."
"The images made the lessons so much easier to understand! And they were so beautiful that I found myself looking forward to class rather than dreading it."
A fond, distant look entered her eyes.
"He was truly a wonderful teacher. And seeing those pictures sparked something in me. I wanted to create images of my own. So I began practicing. Sketching constantly, whenever I had free time."
"I drew everything—the gardens, the servants, the cats that prowled the kitchen. Page after page, year after year."
She gestured toward the painting with quiet satisfaction.
"Eventually, I realized I had developed...well, a decent level of skill. And this is the result."
"Decent?" Cassius laughed. "Isabelle, if you ever wanted to leave the household, you could become a painter of legendary renown!"
"The Empress herself would summon you to the palace and keep you by her side, commissioning masterpieces every single day."
"Still...don’t you think you went a bit overboard? I understand that you love me, but this..."
He pointed at the godlike figure on the canvas.
"Don’t you think you made me a little too handsome?"
Isabelle tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "Not at all, Young Master." Her voice was perfectly sincere, without a trace of flattery. "As I told you before, I didn’t alter anything. I simply painted what I see."
Cassius stared at her. Then at the painting. Then back at her.
"So this...this is genuinely how you view me?"
Isabelle studied the portrait for a moment, as if double-checking her own work.
Then she turned back to Cassius, and her smile was the most honest thing he had ever seen.
"Yes, Young Master. Exactly like this! I didn’t add anything. I didn’t embellish. This is the image I hold in my heart every time I look at you."
Cassius had no response to that.
Either Isabelle had suddenly revealed herself to be the most masterful liar in the entire household, or she genuinely perceived him through a lens so rose-tinted that it transformed his very being into something divine.
And looking at at the complete, transparent sincerity shining in her eyes, he knew it was the latter.
He wondered, suddenly, how the other women in the household saw him.
Did they all carry similarly idealized images in their hearts? Or was Isabelle uniquely afflicted with this beautiful delusion?
A family painting competition suddenly seemed like an excellent idea—everyone painting their version of him, revealing through art how they perceived their shared husband.
Yes. That would be fascinating. And perhaps slightly terrifying.
"Young Master?" Isabelle’s eager voice broke through his thoughts. "May I see your painting now?"
She was practically vibrating with anticipation, her eyes darting toward his covered easel.
"Honestly, the entire time I was painting you, I kept getting distracted. I couldn’t stop wondering what your painting would look like. Whether it would be good or bad. How you view me through your eyes..."
This was the truth. Before they had begun, Isabelle had spent considerable time preparing herself.
She had applied subtle makeup to enhance her already striking features. She had adjusted her neckline multiple times, lowering it just enough to be noticeable without crossing into impropriety.
She had positioned herself carefully, angling her body so Cassius would have a flattering view.
She had worked very, very hard on this.
So now, standing before him with her heart in her throat, she was genuinely nervous about the results.
Cassius regarded his own painting with a look of immense satisfaction.
"I’m actually quite proud of this. I think I’ve managed to perfectly encapsulate what I see when I look at you. In fact—" He grinned. "—I believe this deserves to hang right next to your painting in that museum we’re going to build."
Isabelle’s anticipation reached fever pitch.
"Show me! You’ve already seen mine—you can’t keep me waiting any longer!"
She looked like she was about to pounce on him if he didn’t reveal his painting immediately.
Cassius chuckled and picked up his canvas.
"Alright, alright. Ready, Isabelle?"
"Three...two...one..."
He turned the painting around.
"This is how I see my beautiful wife."
Isabelle’s eyes scanned it immediately, taking in every detail, memorizing it in her mind.
But the moment she took it in, she was even more dumbfounded than Cassius had been.